


Fake Plastic Trees

by beepalais



Category: Little Mix (Band), One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe- Clueless, Clueless AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 18:42:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1909629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beepalais/pseuds/beepalais
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>It was like that book Louis read in the 9th grade that said "Tis a far, far better thing doing stuff for other people."</i> </p><p>In which Zayn and Louis are best friends because they know what it's like for people to be jealous of them, Nick is the last one at the coffehouse growing chin pubes, Niall's gotta get to the quad before someone snags his Cranberries CD, and Louis is a virgin who can't drive. (Clueless AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fake Plastic Trees

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the Radiohead song, which also plays in the film. Thank you to [wade](http://www.seancodydirection.tumblr.com) for the beta read!
> 
> A Note About Quoting: So anyone who follows me on Tumblr knows that Clueless is one of my all time favorite movies, partially because it's just so quotable. I wanted to incorporate some of my favorite lines into this fic, but wanted readers to be able to distinguish between my own dialogue and lines lifted/closely paraphrased from the film. Anything that is not my own dialogue will be notated with an asterisk (*).

Before Dad dropped the news, Louis was having a great morning. He tried to make every morning great just on principle because, as Dad always said, the key to success in anything was getting a head start. However, this morning started off particularly notable. The song playing on the radio when his alarm went off was "Waterfalls". Nina had mended the torn hem on his favorite pants and had starched his collar the way he liked. The new yellow sweater he had taken a gamble on and bought without trying on first ended up fitting just right. He had polished his Ferragamo loafers last night in front of the TV (in lieu of studying for his upcoming Psychology test) and, on top of all that, Nina had made eggs and bacon for breakfast using egg whites and low sodium bacon like Louis had been asking her to for _ages_. He had a full tank of gas, all his homework was done, and he had cut his mile time down by seven seconds on his evening run the night before.

All things considered, he walked into the kitchen that morning with the mindset that today was going to be excellent. And why shouldn't it be? It was a great morning that would have probably continued on into a great day if Dad hadn’t decided to ruin it for absolutely no reason at all.

“Nick’s coming over for dinner tonight.” Dad said casually behind the spread of his Los Angeles Times. Louis’ fork, full of scrambled egg whites, paused halfway between his plate and his open mouth.

“I’m sorry, what?” He was hoping he had misheard Dad or something, but no such luck. Dad lowered his newspaper a few inches, peering at Louis over the top. Behind him, the bay windows of their kitchen were open onto the backyard garden patio, the cream curtains (that Louis had picked out to match the kitchen's tile accents, thanks very much) fluttering in the slight breeze. It was a beautiful day out--but then again, every day was beautiful in Los Angeles.

“Nick. Nick Grimshaw, your step brother. He’s going to stop by for dinner tonight. He’s back at school for the semester and I told him to come over whenever he liked.” Dad shrugged, like he hadn’t just completely totaled Louis’ perfect mood. One, Nick was _not_ Louis’ step-brother. Nick _had been_ Louis’ step brother for about forty five seconds when Louis was thirteen and Nick was fifteen, and two, Nick was completely insufferable and high up on himself, as though going to a school where people listened to music that wasn’t on VH1 made him the next Bono or something.

“But, _why_?” Louis whined. “You were married to Gayle for five minutes like ten years ago! It barely even counted! Why do I have to see Nick?*”

“I was married to Gayle for ten months four years ago and trust me, Louis, it counted. Besides, we divorce wives, not children.* He’s coming over for dinner.” And with that, Dad raised his newspaper again, signifying that the conversation was over. Louis pushed his plate away and collapsed dramatically against the back of his chair. Nina appeared at his side immediately, reaching for his plate.

“You are done?” she asked, her accent thick. Louis nodded, frowning.

“Yes, Nina, I’m done. My appetite is completely gone.” He threw that last part in Dad’s direction, hoping Dad would think that maybe he was threatening a hunger strike or something, but Dad was completely oblivious, munching away at a piece of bacon and speed reading something in the Business section. Louis knew that he was overreacting, but he couldn’t _help_ it. Nick was just so...just so… _Nick_.

Louis regretted giving his plate up right away, because now on top of still being hungry, he had nothing to do with his hands. He reached up to arrange his hair on instinct and fiddled with the hem of his sweater, throwing pitiful looks in Dad’s direction. When that didn’t work, he took in the deepest breath he could and sighed loudly, dropping his head forward so low it almost touched the table top. Dad remained unfazed.

“Don’t you have to go to school or something?” he asked, closing his newspaper and reaching for the suit coat jacket hanging on the back of his chair.

“I can't pick Zayn up until 7:45; he doesn’t enjoy being rushed,” Louis explained. He noticed the almost-full glass of orange juice next to Dad’s elbow. “Dad, your juice!”

Dad shook his head, pulling on the jacket and reaching for his briefcase. “Do not start with the juice again, Louis.”

“You need your Vitamin C!*” Louis protested, managing to push the tiny juice glass into Dad's hand. His father might've been one of the scariest litigators in the greater Los Angeles County area, but Louis could more than hold his own against him. Dad's client paid him $500 an hour to fight with people for them, but he fought with Louis for free because Louis was his child.* “And spring break is coming up, we've got to start thinking about vacation plans!"

Dad muttered something noncommital in Louis' direction, heading for the foyer with his suit coat over his arm. Louis followed dutifully, grabbing his own satchel and car keys from the hook by the front door. "You are not staying in town to work through spring break, I absolutely forbid it. I say we go out to Malibu for the week; we're due for a visit."

Dad paused, his hand on the door knob. "Don't tell me those brain-dead lowlifes have been calling again.*"

Louis gave him the sternest look he could muster when still wrestling the strap of his satchel across his shoulder. "Dad, that is no way to speak about Grandma and Grandpa. And drink your juice!" He insisted again as Dad tried to place the glass on the entrance table. "Vitamins. _Vitamins._ " He stressed. Dad downed the glass in one hearty swing before heading out the door with enough bluster to power Louis' hair dryer. The sight of the empty juice glass sitting on the entrance table made Louis feel better, at least a little bit. He deposited the glass in the kitchen sink and said goodbye to Nina, who waved to him before sticking her neck back out the open kitchen window to yell at the gardener in heated Spanish.

He stuck his head in the pantry to look for a bottle of seltzer water and noticed a bag of those gross veggie straws that Nick liked so much, sitting next to a perfectly innocent box of Oreos. Dad must've told Nina to pick them up when she went grocery shopping yesterday.

 _What a rat._ Louis thought. _He knew for at least a full 24 hours before bothering to tell me._ No surprise there, though. Dad knew exactly how Louis would feel about Nick coming over and probably didn't want to deal with it any longer than necessary. Then why invite Nick in the first place? Louis had no idea. The justifications and whims of middle aged straight men would forever remain a mystery to him.

Just to be vindictive, he took the bag of veggie straws with him on his way out, tossing them in the passenger foot well of his car as he sped off down the street.

***

To say that Louis had his license was a bit of an exaggeration, if not a flat out lie. But he had a learner's permit, which was basically half-way there, and he had his own car to practice on, mostly because Dad, in his own words, "loved [his] own car and didn't want to see it after [Louis] wrapped it around a lightpole." That was totally fine by Louis, as it meant he got his own tricked out black Jeep to drive around in. It was good that the car was black, because Louis hit a lot of stuff, still learning and all, and the scratches were less likely to show up.

Sometimes people took a tone with him, asking why he was 17 and still didn't know how to drive, but he had been so _busy_ all of last year, and then it really became a matter of not wanting to offend the chauffeur. Dad had eventually put his foot down, though, saying that there was no way he was raising in son who didn't know how to drive, "in Los Angeles, of all damn places!"  
He was thanking every god there was for the car's black paint job as he swerved to avoid a potted plant sitting on a corner. "That came out of nowhere." he mumbled indignantly to himself as he pulled up in front of Zayn's house. It was 7:46, so of course Zayn was already standing on his porch, looking soulful, as he so often did. Louis honked the horn to startle him out of his reverie, laughing as Zayn jumped about ten feet in the air, as though this exact same routine didn't happen nearly every morning.

"Dude, what's with the backpack?" Louis asked as Zayn slid into the passenger seat, barely closing the door behind him before Louis tore off down the street in the direction of school. Zayn's backpack was a mass of pointed silver studs, matching the less-pointy studs on the shoulders of his baseball jacket. Zayn didn't play baseball, of course, but the look was very cool.  
Zayn was his best friend because they both knew what it was like for people to be jealous of them.* People were jealous of Louis because of his charm and charisma that contributed to his generally superior quality of life and personality, and people were jealous of Zayn because Zayn was probably the nearest thing to an angel that God had ever put on this Earth--certainly the nearest thing to an angel to ever grace Beverly Hills High School.

There was a loud crinkle as Zayn moved his feet and he rummaged around in the footwell, retrieving the bag of veggie straws that Louis had somehow already forgotten he had put down there. "Dude, what's with the veggie straws? Are you going vegan on me?"

"God, as if!" Louis scoffed. "They were in my pantry this morning--my Dad bought them for Nick so I snagged them."

Zayn raised an eyebrow. "Step brother Nick?"

"Ex-step brother Nick, and yes, unfortunately." Louis huffed.

"Do you ever pass up an opportunity to hinder him?" Zayn asked as he tossed the snack bag into the backseat and put his own death trap of a backpack in its place in the footwell.

"Hardly. And watch where you're putting that thing. I don't want it popping a hole in my tires."

Now it was Zayn's turn to huff. "They're not even that pointy. You don't like it, though? I thought it looked sick. And it matches my jacket." He shimmied a little to show off his prickly shoulders. Louis slapped at him, the car swerved precariously before he righted it.

"Cut that out, you're going to rip my upholstery. And of course I like it. It's very medieval. Very "Tower of London". Very "Man with a leather hood". Very--" Zayn cut him off with a punch to the shoulder. Louis didn't even consider returning the favor, considering he valued the state of his knuckles, thanks very much.

Louis pumped the brakes as they drove past a stop sign, but he could sense Zayn frowning from the passenger’s seat. “That was a stop sign.” Zayn said, craning his neck back to check. Whatever, there were no cop cars in this neighborhood anyway.

“I totally paused!*” Louis insisted, cutting around a corner and possibly jerking the wheel a little bit so he didn’t hop the curb. “And stop white knuckling the door handle!”

Zayn just gripped it tighter, his other hand curling into the seat upholstery. “I’ll stop when you learn how to turn!”

“I can turn!” Louis cut another corner to prove it, the whole car jerking. He may have ran over some flowers on that one; he couldn’t really tell. Besides, Zayn could tease all he wanted about Louis not being able to drive but the fact stood that Louis hadn’t hit a fire hydrant in *three months* so that was definitely a sign of improvement, right?. “D’you think they’re going to make me do turns when I go in for my driving test?”

Zayn buried his face in his hands. “Oh, my _god_ , Louis, _yes_ they are going to make you do turns! That’s, like, all they make you do at the driving test!”

Louis sighed, relieved, “Well, that’s good to hear. So long as they don’t make me do parallel parking or anything.”

Zayn took a deep breath and groaned so loudly for so long that Louis was pulling into the school parking lot by the time he finished.

***

“It’s 8:15 AM and Perrie’s already paging me.*” Zayn sighed, tucking his sleek black beeper back into the side pocket of his backpack, where it continued to chirp incessantly. Zayn’s girlfriend Perrie had gotten her cell phone taken away by her evil step-dad Clarence for “bad behavior” ( From what Louis understood, Perrie had gotten in trouble for not asking to use her credit card before ordering a Thighmaster and Louis would love to know what planet Clarence was living on where looking out for one’s health was considered bad behavior but whatever.) and had been demoted to having to return to her old pager to stay in touch with everyone, which sounded like a literal nightmare. Louis hadn’t touched a pager since junior high, around the time he stopped wearing sandals anywhere not in a twenty foot radius of a body of water.

“Why isn’t she paging me?” Louis pouted.

“You told her not to bother.” Zayn reminded him as they walked from the parking lot up to the front lawn of the school, which was dotted with students waiting for first bell to ring at 8:45.

Louis scoffed. “I did not.”

“Yes, you did. You said--” Zayn cleared his throat, putting on the totally embarrassing, high pitched, inaccurate voice he always used to impersonate Louis. “Perrie, I love you, but I don’t love you enough to start wearing a pager again.”

Louis rolled his eyes, stopping to check his reflection in the tinted side window of Rita Ora’s massive white SUV. “I did not say that.” He definitely might’ve at one point said that. "Why's she bugging so badly anyway?"

"I don't know." Zayn sighed. "Sometimes I think she doesn't trust me." Louis loved Zayn and Louis loved Perrie, but some days he wasn't so sure if he loved ZaynAndPerrie, if only because sometimes Perrie made Zayn act like the heroine in a terrible Lifetime Channel movie, brooding and sighing, staring out of windows and making vague statements like "Love is so short but forgetting is so long" whenever Louis asked him what was wrong.

"It could be worse--you could be Liam and Danielle." Louis pointed out as they ascended the steps onto the quad, and Zayn groaned in agreement. "I think they're gonna get married, just on the premise that they wouldn't be able to stand anyone else making the other mad--"

Zayn grabbed his arm, squeezing. "Sh, sh, sh, Liam's coming now." As if on cue, Liam flanked Louis on his other side, bouncing eagerly on his feet as though he couldn't wait to get into school and start learning.

"Liam, what a surprise!" Louis exclaimed. "We were just talking about you."

"Yeah?" Liam said, his big puppy dog eyes going rounder. "How's that?" But before Louis had time to respond, someone called to Liam from across the quad. All three of them turned to see a group of girls approaching them--Perrie and Danielle, followed by Leigh-Anne and Jade.

Even from this distance, Louis could see that Danielle was fired up about something. "Oh here we go." Zayn muttered under his breath as they all walked forward, meeting the girls halfway. Zayn intercepted Perrie, both of them gushing about how much they missed each other in the twelve hours since they last spoke, and they kissed, Perrie's dark red lipstick staining Zayn's mouth. On anyone else, the blatantly display of PDA would've made Louis gag, but Zayn and Perrie were charming enough that it came off as roguish and adorable and a bit jealousy inducing.

Liam and Danielle, however, spared no pleasantries right from the start. "Why didn't you answer my phone calls last night?" she asked, folding her arms and popping her hip. There weren't many people in the school that intimidated Louis, teachers included, but Danielle was one of them.

"My phone was dead." Liam said, which Louis knew to be a blatant lie since he had called Liam around 9 to get help with his pre-calc homework, but he wasn't going to be the bearer of bad news on that one. Louis didn't really know why Zayn and Liam, or Danielle and Perrie, for that matter, bothered dating anyone seriously in high school. Louis liked most of the people in his school, but he didn't like them, not in a romantic way. They were good to have as friends, but he considered himself a catch and he wasn't going to settle for just _anyone_ that he wasn't totally crazy about. Besides, seeing the constant blow ups between the couples in his everyday life was more than enough to put him off dating in high school. It seemed to involve a lot of yelling and temper tantrums and wallowing in self pity while listening to Oasis, none of which interested Louis in the slightest.

"Oh, your phone was dead!" Danielle parroted back to him, her voice rising. "You've got to be playing me." There was a bit of crowd gathering, and Louis didn't have the patience right now to deal with the Danielle and Liam Variety Show Live, so he hiked his satchel up and patted Zayn on the shoulder, which was difficult seeing as he was still more or less entwined with Perrie.

"Zee, I'm outtie.*" he declared, catching Jade's eye from across the circle. "Jade, walk with me to Psych?" Jade jumped at the opportunity to extract herself from Danielle's side, as Liam was now accusing her of cheating on him with one of the greasy wannabees in Nathan Sykes' circle, which was pretty much par for the course but still not any more fun to deal with.

He held out his arm for Jade as they wriggled out of the growing circle surrounding Danielle and Liam. "Shall we?" He asked. Jade threaded her arm through his and offered a wobbly little curtsy.  
"We shall." she proclaimed and together they flounced off to the science wing, leaving the quickly escalating row behind them.

***

His morning classes passed with comfortable familiarity as Louis traveled from class to class, and by the time he got to Debate in third period he had almost forgotten the morning's upsets, though the threat of Nick's insufferable presence at home still loomed in his mind. As the end of semester loomed near, Mr. Atkin was beginning to call people up to give their oral debates, but the entire class seemed apathetic to the examinations. Next to him, Leigh Ann was reading the newest Sweet Valley High book tucked into her desk and behind him, Perrie was scratching her long fingers against his scalp, lulling him into a sense of inner calm that he usually only felt after a nice long massage session.

Ten minutes after the bell rang, Niall Horan strode into the class, his skateboard rucked up under one arm. "Morning, Mr. A." he said cheerfully as he walked past Mr. Atkin's desk, apparently immune to the exasperation radiating off of the teacher in waves. Niall plunked down happily in his seat, sliding his skateboard underneath his chair.

"The bell rang ten minutes ago, Niall." Mr. Atkin informed him. Niall looked genuinely perplexed, twisting around in his seat to look at the clock mounted in the back of the room.

"Oh dude." he half-whispered. "Would you look at that? Barely even noticed. Sorry about that, Mr. A. Won't happen again." He raised a hand to Mr. Atkins with a goofy grin and, when Mr. Atkins made no move to get up from leaning against his desk to return the high-five, simply fist bumped the air and settled back in his seat.

Mr. Atkin heaved an enormous sigh. “Alright, Tomlinson, Payne. You’re up.” Louis straightened up and flounced to the podium amidst a smattering of applause from his classmates while Liam took his spot at the opposing stand. Louis hadn’t really prepared for this debate per say, but he at least knew the prompt, and if there was one thing Louis could do, it was talk his way out of anything. He shuffled some of the papers in front of him on his podium mindlessly, frantically searching his brain for everything he knew about the immigration laws in America.  
“When you’re ready, Louis.” Mr. Atkin said, leaning back against his desk. He crossed his ankles, his pants riding up just enough that Louis could see that his socks were mismatched argyle. So typical. Mr. Atkin was the epitome of the clueless bachelor. Louis took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders and nodding to Perrie, who was grinning encouragingly at him from the second row.

“So, basically,” he started off, keeping his hands flat on the podium surface to avoid fiddling with the sleeves of his sweater. “The immigration situation in America is very polarizing. Because you have people who say “America is the land of opportunity!” but then you have other people who are all “But we have limited resources!” which are both valid points, of course?” Thank god Dad brought this up on the phone to Uncle Ben like twice a week or Louis would’ve been wholly unprepared. “But, it’s like--okay for my Dad’s fiftieth birthday party, I planned this whole big garden party, and I mean it was a huge ordeal and required weeks of planning in advance. And on the invitation, I strongly requested people to RSVP, so that I wouldn’t be freaking out the day of, but of course people showed up without RSVP’ing anyway--which was rude, but whatever--” Mr. Atkin caught Louis’ eye and tapped his wristwatch, letting Louis know he had a minute left.

Louis nodded to him, trying to figure out how to wrap this up while still running his mouth. “So I had to run to the kitchen and tell the chef to cook up a few more entrees and I had to re-portion a few things and pull some of the dinner plate ware out of storage but at the end of the day, the more, the merrier*! I believe that the government should be flexible enough to go to the kitchen, pull some plates out of storage, and make some room at the table for immigrants so they can be at my dad's fiftieth birthday too," He paused for dramatic effect. "And in conclusion, I would like to remind you that it does not say RSVP on the Statue of Liberty*.”

He couldn’t help but bounce a little as everyone burst into applause for him, Leigh-Anne and Perrie leading the charge and whopping enthusiastically. From the other podium, Liam glowered at him. Louis just simpered back, stretching his chewing gum out of his mouth, one end clamped between his front teeth and the other twirled around the his finger.

“Gum back in your mouth, Louis,” Mr. Atkin warned. Louis obliged, popping the wad back into his mouth while continuing to smile beatifically at Liam. “Liam? Your rebuttal?” Mr. Atkin asked. Liam blinked owlishly, scoffing.

“Mr. Atkin, how am I supposed to respond to that?” Louis rolled his eyes, leaning forward against his podium and cracking his gum as loudly as he dared. Just because his argument was unconventional didn’t make it wrong. Mr. Atkin should’ve been giving him extra points for being so creative. “We were supposed to be discussing immigration reform and he’s over here talking about some party.”

“Um, hello,” Louis countered. “It was his fiftieth birthday*!” Clearly his brilliant metaphor had gone over Liam’s head.

“Whatever.” Liam sighed. “I can’t do my assignment if he didn’t do his.”

“Mr. Atkin!” Louis protested, repressing the urge to stomp his foot. He wasn’t going to lose points just because Liam didn’t want to admit defeat. Luckily, Mr. Atkin just sighed, waving them both off.

“Sit down, boys. Liam, I’ll give you a topic at the end of the class to write a short response on. Louis, you’ll receive credit for--” He paused, gesturing vaguely towards Louis and his podium. “For that attempt.” Mr. Atkin finished. Hmm. Louis would’ve preferred “oration” or something like that, but considering the fact that he had just pulled that debate out of thin air, he wasn’t complaining.

Louis grinned all the way back to his seat, where he was greeted with high fives from Perrie and Leigh-Anne. “Ignore Liam.” Leigh told him, wrapping one of her micro braids around her finger. “He’s just bitter from the fight with Dani this morning.”

“Totally.” Perrie agreed, not looking up from filing her inch-long burgundy nails.

“Now that most of our final speeches are out of the way,” Mr. Atkin pushed off of his desk, walking to the center of the room with a stack of small manila envelopes in his hand. As though on cue, everyone groaned. Kitty-corner from Louis, Niall Horan slumped so low in his seat that his shoulders bunched around his ears. Mr. Atkin pretended not to notice. “I can proceed to the moment I’m sure you’ve all been waiting for--report cards!” Behind him, Louis could hear Leigh’s head hit her desk with a resounding thump.

Mr. Atkin began passing the report cards down the rows, looking at the names on the front of the envelopes as he passed them from student to student. “Now, does anyone know if there is a Jessica Nelson in this class? I haven’t seen her all semester.” Louis hand shot up--gossip on fellow classmates? Now that, he definitely knew. Mr. Atkin called on him. “Yes, Louis?”

“So, word on the street is that her parents are divorced but have joint custody, so she spends the fall semester in Chicago with her mom but the spring semester here in LA with her dad. I, personally, think it’s a reflection on how the legal system is making children vulnerable to unstable adolescent conditions.” He added that last part for good measure, just in case it might convince Mr. Atkin to bump his grade retroactively.

Mr. Atkin just nodded thoughtfully, putting Jessica Nelson’s report folder at the bottom of his pile, and handing Louis his own report card before turning to Niall to hand his off.

“Hold my hand.” Louis demanded, holding out his palm so either Perrie or Leigh could grab it. Perrie got there first, squeezing tight, so Leigh put a hand on his shoulder. Her nails bit in a little even though the layers of cotton and wool, and the pain helped distract him a little. He got the paper out and unfolded it, searching for the FINAL GRADE tally line at the bottom of the page but was momentarily distracted by Niall Horan launching himself at the open window.

“Niall, PLEASE.” Mr. Atkin bellowed, crossing to the window in three strides and wrapping an arm around Niall’s waist, pulling him away. “Reserve all suicide attempts until you are out of my classroom.” Niall collapsed back into his chair, pouting, his report card balled in one fist. It was a shame that Niall was such a burn-out, Louis thought, because with the right clothes and cologne to mask the constant cloud of pot smoke, he could actually be pretty cute.

“What’d you get?” Perrie asked, squeezing his hand again and bringing him back to the matter at hand. He frantically scanned the bottom of the page until he saw it, the small pink box marked PROGRESS REPORT 3 GRADE.

Oh my god, no. No, no, _no_. How could this be happening?

“What’s wrong?” Leigh asked, but he could barely hear her through the faint buzzing in his ears.

He got a C in Debate?

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://www.changelinglouis.tumblr.com)


End file.
